A Midsummer Night at the SGC
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: Stargate Atlantis crossover. If you've read or seen A Midsummer Night's Dream, this doesn't need a summary. If you haven't...I don't think I can do it justice.


This was inspired by a conversation between myself and Freelance. I, at least, am certifiably insane. You have been warned.

_**ljmckay**: (And is it really wrong that I love the subtle little Jack/Elizabeth bits?)  
__**celticsky**: That is so not the kind of question you ask me and I am so very very shippery about Jack/Elizabeth. (And, well, anyone/Elizabeth...) So my answer: ZOMG NO. IT IS AWESOME THAT YOU LOVE IT.  
__**ljmckay**: Heeee! It's just that lately I've been wandering from the McWeir path and feeling slightly guilty (although there's a strange symmetry in Jack/Elizabeth and Sam/Rodney, so I guess that works...) :D  
__**celticsky**: -baps- Do not feel guilty! Spread the fandom love! g But you are being very symmetrical, si. Sam/Jack, Jack/Elizabeth, Elizabeth/Rodney, Rodney/Sam... It's a square!  
__**ljmckay**: Heee, it IS a square! Like Midsummer Night's Dream! Oh DEAR, that was NOT a bunny that just hopped by...  
__**celticsky**: -watches the bunny bounce- Oh, that is so a bunny. -nudges you-_

* * *

"Samantha…" Sam gazed into the warm brown eyes of her CO (no! not her CO, not right now!) – of Jack O'Neill, searching them for the answer to her unasked question. "I will always be there for you, no matter what. Believe me." That wasn't exactly what she wanted to hear, but it was close enough. Impulsively, she leaned in and kissed him, kissed him good. He wasn't resisting and she took that as encouragement to deepen it, whimpering slightly as she realized her fantasy of almost eight years. His hand caressed her face and she heard a muffled "Carter" as the kiss intensified further.

"Carter," he said again, his hand on her face becoming more insistent. "Carter! Sam!"

She woke with a start, disoriented. Glancing around, she realized she was still in her lab, her notes spread in front of her and General O'Neill gazing at her with mild concern. She was disgusted to find her arm covered in saliva, and slightly alarmed to think that the general might have walked in on her making out with her arm. She hadn't said his name, had she?

"You okay?" he asked, giving no indication that he realized what she'd been dreaming about.

"Uh," she tried, her tongue not working properly yet. She cursed herself silently for thinking about tongues before clearing her throat and trying again. "Yes, sir. Just, uh, just a little tired."

"Apparently," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Weir has something to show us."

----------

The 'something' turned out to be an utterly boring presentation on the power requirements for gating to Atlantis by that smartass scientist, McKay. Jack didn't know how Elizabeth put up with him; he would have shot the arrogant little prick by now. Might still, come to think of it.

Fortunately, Jack didn't feel compelled to listen to McKay prattle on about the 'ZedPM' and all that scientific stuff; the man seemed to be talking mostly to Carter anyway. Jack instead turned his attentions to his fellow leader who, being polite enough to at least pretend to be interested, was sufficiently distracted by McKay for Jack's observation to go unnoticed. She was wearing that red t-shirt that went in at the sides and hugged her body, accentuating her features nicely. She wore red a lot, he reflected. He'd heard somewhere (was it that twit Felger? Or his friend, what's-his-name?) that wearing red wasn't a good idea in their line of work. Hmm.

The red seemed to be a new thing, though, something she'd picked up in Antarctica. She'd been wearing that black number when he first met her, back when she was a blonde. He hadn't liked the blonde much; the dark hair suited her much better. Maybe the black was her 'serious suit,' the one she wore when she thought other people cared. That's how he thought of his dress blues. Her red t-shirts seemed to be more like his BDUs: comfortable, practical, everyday wear. Hmm.

Comfortable and practical it might be, but this t-shirt didn't hurt her figure any, either. If she'd just tuck her hair behind her ear – ah, there she went – so he could see her profile…Look out, Mary Steenburgen…

She must have felt his eyes on her or something, or maybe McKay had asked a question, because she turned suddenly and looked straight at him. Jack dropped his eyes and doodled on his notepad, trying to pretend he was following the scientist's talk, but he didn't think she'd fall for it. She was too smart for that. Oh, well. As long as he was doodling…he sketched a small stick figure with an exaggerated mouth, tiny stick arms waving wildly, another stick man off to the side pointing a pistol at him. Behind the armed man was a…well-endowed stick woman whose gaze, indicated by a series of dashed lines, was directed at the armed man's shapely posterior. Jack grinned to himself.

----------

Elizabeth wasn't sure what General O'Neill was grinning about, though she rather doubted it was Rodney's comment about the ZPM being 'dimensionally transcendent' – a comment which, though he appeared to be directing it (and the rest of his talk, really) at Colonel Carter, made Elizabeth smile. Someone had to laugh at Rodney's jokes, and she really did find them funny. Most of the time.

She had to admit, she wasn't really following much of what Rodney was saying, either, but she was trying. She felt it was her responsibility as the leader of this new expedition to understand as much as she could about how it actually operated. She attended these presentations by every senior member of her team, even if she wasn't explicitly invited (Colonel Sumner was still having trouble with the civilian leadership of the mission), but she enjoyed Rodney's the most. He was just so…passionate. And while his comments were always peppered with cynical sarcasm, they also contained a fair amount of acerbic wit. Elizabeth was always grateful for a bit of humor in these tense times.

In addition, and she wasn't above admitting, if only to herself, that she was this shallow, Rodney was a far sight nicer to look at than Colonel Sumner. Dr. Beckett was all right, really, but she had trouble repressing the urge to flatten his hair. Rodney, though, Rodney was like a cross between a teddy bear and Dudley Do-Right. If a person ever got the opportunity to hug him – unlikely, given his general disposition, but not impossible – he would probably be just the right combination of cuddly and firm. Elizabeth ducked her head, amused by the thought of a large teddy bear in a Mountie uniform with Rodney's face, wondering when she had become so unprofessional.

----------

For his part, Rodney was oblivious to Elizabeth's less-than-virtuous musings. He was oblivious to just about everything, actually, except Lieutenant Colonel Blue Eyes and the way she managed to make even drab BDUs look hot. Another man might have been distracted, have difficulty concentrating on his presentation, but Rodney was perfectly capable of focusing on two things at once…and his presentation, too.

It was shortly after his joke about dimensional transcendence – which, he noted with a sniff of disappointed disdain, she failed to laugh at – that he made his move. Spinning quickly on his heel, he pretended to overbalance and pitched headlong toward Sam. He threw his hands out (to catch himself, of course) and barely even tried to hide his grin of anticipation.

Things didn't go quite to plan. Sam, startled by his sudden motion, shoved her chair backward to avoid a collision and somehow managed to land in the lap of an equally startled O'Neill, who stared helplessly as Dr. Weir launched herself from her own chair in an attempt to catch Rodney. She was about five nanoseconds too late.

His hands hit first, extended as they were, and the rest of his body followed with a heavy, "Oof!" as the air was forcefully expelled from his lungs. He felt strong, cool hands on his back and arms and pondered for a brief moment that if an 'accidental' grope wouldn't work, a sympathetic nurse figure was the next-best thing. To his disappointment, it wasn't his blonde angel checking to see if he was all right, just Dr. Weir. He brushed her aside, insisting that he was fine, though he made sure to affect a pained expression every time he saw Sam looking at him.

----------

Elziahet sighed as she watched the proceedings. Why were humans so obtuse? All that emotion and none of it returned, only passed along in an endless cycle, useless. The situation would have to be remedied. Najonath would be easily persuaded; the circumstances were ideal for testing the new apparatus.

"No," Najonath boomed.

"But Najonath," she pleaded, "all that love! It is going nowhere. If we could only channel it, we would grow much stronger. And you have been wanting to test the apparatus for some time now," she added.

"You know the laws about interference," he rumbled, his tone suggesting he'd said this same thing innumerable times before.

"The Ori interfere," she shot back petulantly.

"We are not the Ori," he replied fiercely. "The Faeri do not operate that way."

"But if we are to fight the Ori," Elziahet reasoned, "we will need more strength."

"How do you propose gaining this strength," he sighed, "without interfering? For if we interfere, our brothers will descend upon us with their wrath."

"We learn from the ways of our enemy," she grinned, "and operate through an intermediary."

Najonath appeared puzzled for a moment before he realized, "Demerthi?" He did not sound pleased.

"He is up to the task, Najonath," she assured him. "Besides, you have been insisting that the apparatus is not a complicated device. How can he err?"

"Knowing him, he will find a way," Najonath murmured, but nodded.

Elziahet could not hide her glee as she went to find the human who had pledged himself to the service of the Faeri. He had had some…mishaps in the past, it was true, but he had come a long way and she felt confident he could complete this simple mission without trouble. Just in case, though, she would send someone to keep a careful eye on him.

----------

Demerthi was excited and he wasn't afraid to admit it. The Faeri had never sent him on a proper mission before and he was beginning to think they never would. Perhaps he had had some accidents in the past, but he had pledged himself to the Faeri in the hopes that he could DO something. He had seen the Priors of the Ori (his village had, in fact, been decimated by one many years ago) and envied their powers, though he did not subscribe to their 'Origin'. When he had encountered the Faeri in his wandering across the planets, he had been attracted to their great strength which didn't seem to be attached to any sort of demands on their followers. In fact, they didn't have any followers. Remembering the Priors, he made himself their first in the hopes that they would grant him special powers and send him on exciting missions. Ten years later (at least he estimated it to be ten years; time had little meaning for ascended beings) he was finally getting his wish. Granted, his only 'power' was phase-shifting and his 'exciting mission' was a bit less…masculine than he would have liked, but the fact remained that he was doing _something_. And entrusted with the apparatus, no less!

Elziahet had carefully explained to him what the apparatus did and how it worked, and then Najonath had repeated everything again. Since the Faeri drew their power from love, much as their Ori cousins drew power from the worship of their followers, the apparatus was designed to increase the amount of usable resource. Demerthi was a bit fuzzy on the details but as he understood it, only mutual love was useful to the Faeri because it created an excess emotion that escaped the couple and could be harvested. Unrequited love was useless, which was where the apparatus came in. It could not _create_ love; what it did was _redirect_ it. That was why this particular situation was so ideal for testing it; all the love existed, it was just directed at the wrong targets.

The apparatus was not large, though it was not particularly small, either. It had a half-moon-shaped base, with a point extending from the middle of the curved side. According to Najonath, all Demerthi had to do was point the tip toward the target human and press the key on the top of the base. Their love would then be redirected toward the next sentient being they saw. The important thing was to make sure that that next being was the right one. Demerthi was a bit nervous about that part, to be honest, but he was sure it wouldn't be too terribly difficult. He hoped.

----------

Ashtama sighed as she watched Demerthi sneak toward the mountain. He was out of phase; he could have walked straight in with his head held high and no one would have been the wiser, but Demerthi always had to throw in what he called a 'dramatic flair'. Why did _she_ have to baby-sit him? Just because she was the last of the Faeri to ascend…

She winced as Demerthi dodged from behind a tree he could have walked through and fumbled the apparatus, almost dropping the fragile device. She almost manifested herself then and there, sorely tempted to just grab the apparatus and tell Demerthi to run on home, she would handle this one herself. But she had strict orders; she was an observer only and unless Demerthi caused a planet-wide catastrophe, she was to remain hidden from not only the inhabitants of Earth, but Demerthi himself. She sighed again; this was shaping up to be the most mind-numbing assignment ever.

----------

Demerthi was slightly disappointed with how easily he was able to enter the mountain. He briefly considered shifting back into phase just to make things a bit more challenging, but decided against it. The Faeri would have his hide. He strode down the hallways of the strange underground facility, dodging the various people he met along the way – partly because it felt so odd to be walked through, and partly to make things more interesting. He tried to remember where Elziahet had said he was supposed to go first. The leader's chamber, he thought, but where was that?

He walked past a door marked 'General O'Neill' and paused. That was the leader's name, wasn't it? He hoped he hadn't gotten confused, and walked through the door. He was in a small chamber dominated by a large wooden table, which was cluttered with various objects, and occupied by a grey-haired man in loose green clothing. That matched the description Elziahet had given him of O'Neill so he raised the apparatus and aimed it at the man.

He stopped himself suddenly, lowering the apparatus hurriedly and cursing himself for his short-sightedness. He had to ensure that the next person O'Neill saw was the right one or there would be horrible trouble. Sighing in relief that he had caught his near-mistake in time, he stepped back outside the chamber and scanned the hallways. He was just wondering how long he would have to wait when a fair-haired maiden, dressed similarly to O'Neill, came around the corner and headed for the chamber. Demerthi grinned; this must be Carter, the one whose love O'Neill needed to return. Well, that hadn't been hard. He went back into O'Neill's chamber and pointed the apparatus at him, activating it. A small beam of energy struck O'Neill square in the, well, shoulder, Demerthi never had been a very good shot, but the man didn't seem to notice it at all. Demerthi waited for Carter to come in, eager to see the effects of the apparatus, and grinned when the door burst open.

His grin turned into an expression of dismay when through the door came, not Carter, but a small bald man with glasses. He was telling O'Neill something but Demerthi barely heard him. What was he going to do? Najonath would be most annoyed at this error. But maybe…maybe the apparatus had failed and there was no error after all. Demerthi held his breath.

"Thanks, Walter," O'Neill was saying, nodding at the bespectacled man. A puzzled frown creased his features as he asked, "Did you…do something with your hair?"

The one called Walter apparently found the comment offensive and bit out a clipped, "No, sir," before turning and stalking out.

O'Neill watched him go, wincing slightly as the door slammed shut. "It looks nice!" he called after the departed Walter.

Demerthi thought he might cry.

----------

Ashtama cursed. She had known something like this would happen, of course, they all had, but to actually watch it as it unfolded…

She wasn't sure what to do now. She desperately wanted to swoop in and correct Demerthi's mistake but, while disastrous, this was hardly a world-wide catastrophe. She supposed she ought to consult Elziahet and Najonath but she didn't want to bother them with what really was, when she thought about, a very trivial matter. Demerthi might still correct this on his own. Best just to sit back and keep watching.

----------

Once Demerthi had gotten over the initial shock of his error, he began to consider how he might rectify it. The way he saw it, he had two options. He could either use the apparatus on this Walter character and have him reciprocate O'Neill's love, or he could attempt to catch O'Neill again and redirect his love toward Carter as was the original mission. Then he could focus on the other targets, whom he had almost forgotten about in his panic about O'Neill.

Best to fulfill the original mission, he decided. He would be more careful this time, of course, and catch O'Neill only when it was inevitable that he would see Carter immediately. But how…

----------

Jack was a little bit confused. He'd never really thought about Walter much before. Sure, he was a great little guy to have around, handy with a computer, and Jack would have missed his familiar voice calling out the chevrons as they were encoded, but he was the type of person – in the type of profession – that didn't really get noticed much. A behind-the-scenes kind of guy.

But now, suddenly, Jack was noticing. A lot. He found himself watching as Walter typed something on the dialing computer, pausing to take off his glasses and rub his eyes, and felt an inexplicable urge to go over and pat the technician on the back…maybe even rub his shoulders a bit. Quite frankly, Jack was weirded out.

He couldn't seem to help himself, though. Walter brought him coffee later that afternoon, slamming the mug down on Jack's desk. He still hadn't gotten over the hair comment. Jack admitted it had been a pretty stupid thing to say to a bald man, though he had really just been trying to figure out what about Walter had changed to make him…noticeable, and he was trying to make amends.

"Thanks," Jack smiled, "champ."

Walter blinked, his irritation replaced by puzzlement and uneasiness. "You're…welcome, sir," he replied.

"I've never told you how much I appreciate your coffee, Walter," Jack continued, oblivious to the sergeant's increasing discomfort. "You make a mean cup o' joe."

Walter was backing toward the door at this point. "Thank you, sir," he answered hurriedly. "I, uh…the gate…there's a, a, a diagnostic…" He turned and bolted out the door.

"Keep up the good work, sport!" Jack called after him.

----------

Demerthi was growing desperate. He'd been following O'Neill around all day (which had led to an awkward moment before Demerthi figured out the significance of the room with the small man on the door) and the man hadn't even seen Carter, let alone spoken to her long enough for Demerthi to activate the apparatus. Demerthi was almost considering coming back into phase and dragging O'Neill to find Carter, but he knew that probably wouldn't work very well.

He was about to give up and move on to the second target couple when O'Neill stood from his desk and walked out the door, shutting off the light. Sighing, Demerthi followed him dutifully, wondering if he was expected to follow O'Neill home or stay in the underground facility all night. O'Neill turned down a corridor he hadn't visited all day, though Demerthi barely noticed this in his musings about where he would sleep.

"Hey, Carter," O'Neill called, and Demerthi was suddenly alert (and almost dropped the apparatus again). "You headed out soon?"

Demerthi was fumbling with the apparatus as Carter replied, "Yes, sir, Dr. Lee and I are just finishing up this schematic," and had it pointed at O'Neill's back and fired before he registered the presence of another individual in the room, another bald man in glasses, though this one also had a beard and a white coat. Demerthi squeezed his eyes shut and hoped with all his being that O'Neill had not been looking in the other man's direction when the apparatus impacted his posterior.

----------

Ashtama couldn't believe her eyes. Demerthi had made another mistake, perhaps worse than the first! Granted, this wasn't _entirely_ his fault, though he bore the blame for perhaps half of the problem.

She had watched in dismay as Demerthi fired the apparatus without checking to see if the room was unoccupied, though she understood his impatience to have the task done with. She had seen the energy impact O'Neill, rolling her eyes at Demerthi's horrible marksmanship, but then…the energy had passed _through_ O'Neill and struck Carter as well. Ashtama had felt a growing horror as she realized that Carter had been looking at the other man in the room, 'Dr. Lee', when the bolt hit her. Oh, this was turning into a fine mess.

----------

Sam blinked. She'd been working with Dr. Lee – Bill – all afternoon and hadn't noticed how the light from his laptop really flattered him. She wasn't usually a big fan of beards, but Bill's was just long enough to not be scruffy while not thick enough to be bushy. She wasn't sure what to think of the fleeting desire to rub that beard, just to see what it felt like.

"Carter?" came the strangely strangled-sounding voice of General O'Neill from the door. Embarrassed, she wondered if he had just asked her a question that she'd missed in her appraisal of Bil–Dr. Lee. He didn't seem to notice her lapse, however, and was staring at her in something approaching…awe?

"Sorry, sir," she answered. "You were saying?"

"Oh, I," he waved a hand vaguely, "I was just…leaving…Good night."

"Good night, sir," she replied, turning back to her workstation with a glance toward Bill. He was hard at work on the schematic, his glasses slipping provocatively down his nose and a few beads of sweat glistening on his hairless pate. She sighed appreciatively.

----------

This time Demerthi really did cry. He slid to the floor, clutching the apparatus to his chest, and wondered how he could ever face the Faeri again. The more he tried to correct this situation, the worse it got.

----------

Ashtama took pity on poor Demerthi. He hadn't _asked_ for this assignment (though she shuddered to think what he might have done with the more important missions he _had_ wanted) and he really was trying his best. She could evade the interference laws by not actually doing anything; she would just be a friendly supporter for Demerthi. And maybe whisper some advice in his ear while she was at it…

She manifested herself, making sure to stay out of phase since Carter and Dr. Lee were still in the room. Grabbing a surprised Demerthi by the arm, she dragged him to his feet and brushed him off.

"Pull yourself together, man," she hissed. "You have a mission to complete."

"It's no use, Ashtama," he wailed. "I have failed the Faeri."

"Oh, stop whining," she scowled. "You can fix this. But not right now. You are tired and the targets are all about to go to sleep anyway."

She was interrupted by a small throat-clearing behind her. Startled, she turned, afraid that she and Demerthi had been discovered somehow. In fact it was only Carter trying to attract Dr. Lee's attention.

"Bill," she was saying, a strange note in her voice, "have you lost weight?"

Dr. Lee looked up, startled but pleased. "Well, I have been working out a bit," he admitted, blushing slightly.

"It shows," Carter grinned.

"Thanks," Bill breathed, staring at her brilliant smile.

Ashtama turned back to Demerthi, a smile playing at her lips. "There, you see?" she encouraged him. "You have done something right. A mutual love. The Faeri do not care _who_ as long as it is reciprocated."

"But what about O'Neill?" Demerthi reminded her, not cheered in the slightest by his 'success'.

"Ah, well," Ashtama admitted, "he will have to be redirected…again. But no matter; you are becoming quite facile with the apparatus," she lied, trying to get him to stop thinking so much. Demerthi was dangerous when he didn't think; when he did, he was a downright menace.

"Hmm," was all he said. Ashtama worried about that but there was nothing she could do about it now. She would just have to keep an even closer eye on him from here on out.

----------

Jack went to work early the next morning, after shaving extra-carefully and spending more time than he cared to admit combing his hair just so. He wondered if he'd overdone the aftershave a little, but that couldn't really be helped. He scowled as he drove, wondering what had turned him into a teenage boy again (not _literally_ this time). He had always kind of had a thing for Carter, not that he could do anything about it, but when she started getting serious with that Pete guy, he had figured all almost-nonexistent hope was now lost. He had no idea what had changed his mind in the last twelve hours, but seeing her in that lab, the hottest geek he'd ever run across, something had reminded him of how he used to feel. Nothing else had changed, of course, so he had pretty much no clue how they might make it work, although when he thought about it, he wasn't all that fond of this new desk job…

When Jack got to the SGC, he immediately went searching for Carter. He didn't know what he would say but he had to see her. She wasn't in her lab, although, to Jack's disgust, that turd McKay was. The scientist looked up guiltily from pawing through one of the drawers when he heard Jack come in and the two stared at each other for a brief moment before McKay cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"I was just, uh, looking for Colonel Carter," he explained nervously.

"In the drawer," Jack observed drolly. McKay looked down at where his hand was still inside the compartment and withdrew it hastily, slamming the drawer shut.

"I – she – uh," he stammered.

Jack rolled his eyes. "I'm looking for her, too," he sighed, hoping McKay wouldn't take that as an invitation.

"Oh, well, great!" McKay enthused. "I'll help you."

Damn.

----------

Ashtama was at least as frustrated with the search for Carter as the two men, possibly more so. For the past fifteen minutes, she had been considering ripping the apparatus from Demerthi's fingers and just shooting them both, and the temptation grew stronger each minute. It was only the thought of what happened to those who broke the interference laws that kept her from doing it; she was treading a fine enough line as it was.

"Demerthi," she whispered. "They are alone in this corridor. Do it now!" Advice was not interference, after all.

"But they are not the targets," Demerthi objected. "Well, they _are_, but not for one another."

"It does not matter!" Ashtama insisted – again. "The Faeri do not–"

"Care, yes, I know," Demerthi finished. "But I do not know if even the apparatus could make those two…" He trailed off. "Especially O'Neill. He has threatened McKay's life on several occasions."

Ashtama scowled. "I will allow you five more minutes to engage the apparatus, or I will do it for you." It was an empty threat, of course; she could not interfere. But perhaps Demerthi wouldn't realize that.

It turned out to be a moot point. The next door O'Neill and McKay tried opened into a small, cramped closet…made more cramped by the presence of two very oblivious persons apparently attempting to eat one another. O'Neill and McKay – and Demerthi and Ashtama – stared for several moments before one of the couple finally noticed a draft and looked up.

"Carter," O'Neill greeted, seemingly nonchalant.

"Sam?" McKay said at the same time, sounding wounded.

Both of them took slightly longer to notice the identity of the second person in the closet, who looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor.

"Dr. Lee?" they chorused, nonplussed.

"NOW!" Ashtama demanded and Demerthi obeyed, firing blindly into the huddle. Afraid to see what havoc he would wreak this time, he squeezed his eyes shut until he heard Ashtama laugh lightly with relief. "Well done, Demerthi," she praised him as he cracked one eye open. "The apparatus struck O'Neill and passed into Carter and, praise the Faeri, they were looking at one another."

"Really?" Demerthi squeaked, hardly daring to believe that he may have done something right – and purely by chance, too.

"Really," Ashtama confirmed, smiling at the young man. "That is one mess cleaned up, at least. Now you need only catch McKay and Weir together and your task will be completed."

"Oh, yes," Demerthi sighed. "Only that."

----------

Rodney was in a bad mood. First he'd had to endure searching the entire base for Sam with only the taciturn-at-best/annoyingly-sarcastic-at-worst General O'Neill for company. Then they'd _found_ Sam and he almost wished they hadn't; he couldn't believe she was sucking face with that…that…Dr. Lee! Of all people! Rodney knew he wasn't the _most_ attractive man on the planet, but surely he was better-looking than Lee! And _then_, after that scarring display, he'd been completely ignored while something weird happened between Sam and General O'Neill and Lee ran off. Rodney had retreated to the closet that was serving as his lab until they left for Atlantis and sulked.

He was startled, and not entirely pleased, when Dr. Weir stopped in. She had been – he didn't want to say following him – 'coincidentally' bumping into him often lately, rather more often than he was comfortable with. He was a busy man and had better things to do than chit chat in the hallways about power settings that he'd gone over with her at least five times already. He thought she had better things to do, too, really. Or at least she could bother someone else.

But no. She had chosen him, for some reason, and he found himself explaining – for the seventh time – just how the ZedPM worked. He was just about to cut himself off and tell her that he really needed to get back to work when something…funny…happened. It was just as that little Czech guy – Zellweger? Szymanski? Zuckerman? – walked in to ask him if he'd seen one of his underlings, as if he would know that! Rodney thought he felt something brush his shoulder and suddenly wondered why he had spent the last twenty minutes trying to get rid of Dr. Weir. She was hot!

----------

Demerthi would have cried again but he was too angry. Someone – something – was surely plotting against him! There was no way he could have done wrong this time, and yet wrong had been done. He had carefully, painstakingly waited until he was positive Weir and McKay were alone before firing the apparatus. He was looking at her and she was looking at him; nothing could have gone wrong! And then the other man had walked in and drawn Weir's attention at the very instant Demerthi activated the apparatus. Demerthi knew he was accident-prone, but this…this was far too carefully executed to be coincidence. Three times in two days? Demerthi scowled.

----------

"Dr. Zelenka," Dr. Weir greeted the Czech breathlessly. Her hand flew to her hair, tucking it behind her ear and combing it with her fingers. "What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to ask Dr. McKay if he'd seen Dr. Simpson," he replied, squinting curiously at her as she smiled broadly and…batted her eyelashes? Perhaps he needed a new prescription…He nudged said glasses further up his nose, clearing his throat and turning to McKay, who was behaving in his familiarly surly manner.

"I am far too busy to be keeping an eye on _your_ team," McKay frowned.

"Actually," Radek corrected politely, "she's one of yours."

"Whatever. I have my own work to concentrate on, so if there's nothing else…" McKay waved his hands toward the door impatiently. Radek rolled his eyes and complied, wondering if maybe Colonel Carter would know. He didn't notice Dr. Weir following him out until McKay called, "Oh, Elizabeth, I didn't mean you. You're welcome to stay," in a tone of voice Radek had never heard from him before.

---------

Ashtama would have laughed if she hadn't thought Demerthi might kill her for it, ascended or not. He was not in a frame of mind which was prepared to see the humor in the situation. She was surprised by his vehemence, actually; he was usually such a passive little fellow. She was equally – no, more – surprised to find herself attracted by his passionate railings against Najonath, Elziahet, the rest of the Faeri, the Ori, the Others, humans…there seemed no end to who he might blame for his current troubles. She tried not to smile at the way his face puckered cutely as he cursed every living creature he could think of before starting in on inanimate objects.

"I've half a mind to just _stop_ and see what they do then!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in despair.

Ashtama looked up in alarm. "You can't do that," she blurted.

"Why not?" he growled. "Everything I do seems to forward their plan anyway. Whatever their plan is. Whoever _they_ are."

"But if you stop now," Ashtama reminded him, "you will have failed your task. Najonath will not be pleased. He may banish you."

"What do you care? You never liked me anyway," Demerthi scowled.

"That's not true," Ashtama replied, surprised to find that she wasn't actually lying. At Demerthi's disbelieving snort, she continued, "You can be…trying at times, it's true. But you just take getting used to, that's all." She paused, wondering if she should reveal the thoughts she'd recently been having. Her words seemed to be calming him somewhat, so she decided to press on. "You're an attractive man, Demerthi." His head snapped up and he stared at her. Backpedaling hastily, she added, "For a human." He shrugged, not terribly concerned with the qualifier. "What I mean is," she blundered on, wondering how she had gotten into this conversation, "I enjoy your company."

"Is that why you came with me?"

Ashtama cringed inwardly. She had hoped he wouldn't bring that up. "Not…in actual fact…as such," she tried. He frowned at her and she plowed forward, figuring that the truth had gotten her this far. "I…was sent. By the Faeri. To…supervise." Her words came in short bursts, as if telling him in small sections would make it more bearable.

"You were _babysitting_ me?" So much for calming him down. "Do the Faeri really believe me to be that incompetent?"

"No," she replied quickly – too quickly, perhaps. He glared at her. "Demerthi, don't you see? This is precisely why you cannot quit now. If you do, you will only prove them right."

"So they do believe I am useless," he sighed, slumping. The anger seemed to have left him and he was instead slipping into a melancholy.

"Only because you have never proven otherwise," Ashtama snapped. She had no patience for self-pity. "Listen to me, Demerthi. You can do this. You are almost finished. Complete this task successfully and the Faeri will never be able to call you incompetent again." _Unless you bungle something else_, she didn't add.

He nodded slowly. "I will do it," he said finally, and Ashtama smiled at him. "But I want to do it alone."

Her grin faded slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I have a theory," he began and she groaned. Demerthi and his theories…He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "What if the Others detect your presence and believe that you are interfering? They might be responsible for the errors I have made thus far. If you leave, they cannot stop me from carrying out my mission."

Ashtama opened her mouth to protest. "That is," she began, pausing to find the words to appropriately describe the utter preposterousness of his statement, "…quite possible," she finished thoughtfully. "But Najonath and Elziahet –"

"If something goes wrong," Demerthi assured her, "I will claim full responsibility."

"All right," she agreed. On an impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek, whispering, "Good luck, Demerthi," before returning to her energy form.

----------

Radek was growing uncomfortable with the situation. Not that he didn't enjoy Dr. Weir's company, but she had quite literally been following him around all day…at slightly closer quarters than he thought was professional. And as if that wasn't enough, McKay seemed to be as magnetically attached to her as she was to Radek. Which meant he had to deal with not only the strange behavior of Dr. Weir but the continuous insults from Rodney, all while trying to do his work and prepare to leave for another galaxy. It was…trying, to say the least.

"What does _that_ do, Radek?" Dr. Weir asked for the hundredth time, her voice that strange lower pitch she had been using all day. She trailed her finger over the device in question, gazing at Radek suggestively.

Radek sighed. He had ceased being shocked by her overtures several hours ago and now they were bordering on annoying. He couldn't think how to politely tell her to stop, though; she _was_ his boss, after all, and this afternoon notwithstanding, he respected her immensely. But if this continued much longer…

"He doesn't know," McKay jumped in eagerly, "but I can tell you. It –"

"I'd rather hear it from Radek," she interrupted him, rolling the R slightly.

Radek had had enough. "What is going on?" he exploded. "Has everyone gone completely _pomatený_?" He lapsed into his native tongue and ranted for a good five minutes on how difficult it was to concentrate with one person making apparent sexual advances and another belittling him at every turn, how he was trying to be a _překrucující_ professional, how he'd always respected them but didn't know what to think of their characters anymore. When he'd shouted himself out, he threw up his arms and stalked out of the room.

----------

Elizabeth was disappointed that Radek had reacted so badly to her advances. She would just have to be more subtle about it in the future. She had almost forgotten about Rodney, who stood blinking in surprise at Radek's tirade, until he turned to her and grinned.

"Well, now he's out of the way, what do you say we go grab something in the mess?" he offered. She scowled. What _was_ he trying to do, sucking up to the expedition leader like this? He had been following her like a lost puppy all day. It was frankly rather annoying.

She blinked. Rodney hadn't moved, hadn't said anything, hadn't even changed his eager expression at all. And yet…he looked different. What had she just been thinking about? How sweet it was that he'd followed her all day, trying to get her attention? How rude she had been!

"That sounds nice, Rodney," she smiled back. His grin widened as he took her arm and led her from the room.

----------

Demerthi lowered the apparatus and sighed in relief. Something, finally, had gone right. He could go back to the Faeri with his head held high. Ashtama would be proud of him. All was right with the world.

He would, however, be recommending to Najonath that the apparatus be destroyed immediately.


End file.
